


A Subjugglator's Birth

by ominousCataclysm



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9525863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousCataclysm/pseuds/ominousCataclysm
Summary: How Gamzee became the monster he was on that asteroid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Haven't posted in a while. This is a darker fanfic for those who want it.

You woke up with a start. This was unusual in itself, as you would usually sleepily rise from your recuperacoon, before slowly starting to bake a tasty slime pie to start the day. Then you remember that you’re not on Alternia. You are on an asteroid. You are also not in a recuperacoon. Instead, you are lying on a cold and metallic floor. Finally, you notice that there is no sopor to be found anywhere around you. Standing up, you try and forget the dark and violent visions you were treated to last night as a result of not sleeping in regular sopor. This has been happening for the last few days, so you’re pretty much used to it. Looking around, you still can’t find any slime pies to be consumed. You’re not picky; you would eat one cold any day.

 

You feel a slight buzzing at the back of your head as your thinkpan registers the lack of sopor in your system. Ignoring it, you look for room to room, trying to find some pie to clear your… mind… Wait. Why did you need to clear your mind? Sure, you were still a little tired from last night, and there was that persistent buzzing in your head, but apart from that, you felt fine. Better than fine. You felt that your thinkpan was clearer than it ever was. As you contemplate looking for the others, you spot the remains of a slime pie a few feet away from you. Habit overcomes clear thought, and you walk over to it and stick a finger in. 

 

Once you’ve polished up the remains of the slime pie, you notice two things: One, the clearness you felt was gone, replaced by the usual dopiness that accompanies eating sopor. Two, the buzzing in you head had completely subsided. It was nice to be alone in your thinkpan again. After a few minutes of staring into space doing nothing whatsoever, your sopor-addled thinkpan finally decides to look for Karbro and the others. However, you seem to be in a room you’re unfamiliar with. Tanks filled with murky green liquid surround you, the silhouettes of strange creatures just barely visible inside.

 

Muttering a quick slam poem to the Mirthful Messiahs, you attempt to retrieve your grubtop from your sylladex. You successfully retrieve your grubtop from your sylladex on the first try. Again, you’re surprised. Maybe the Mirthful Messiahs are on your side today.

 

You decide to check with Tavros to see where everyone is.

 

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling adiosToreador [AT]

 

TC: HeY, tAvBrO.

TC: WhErE ArE AlL YoU MoThErFuCkErS?

TC: I’M In tHe mIdDlE Of sOmE KiNd oF MoThErFuCkInG ScIeNcE LaB.

AT: Oh, hey, Gamzee

AT: I, uh, don’t really know where the others are, but, I’m gonna fight vriska now???

TC: FuCk, yEaH. TaVbRo iS AlL GrOwN Up nOw. Go tEaCh tHe pIrAtE SiS A LeSsOn.

TC: YOU SCUMBLOODED MOTHERFUCKER.

AT: Uh, what?

TC: SoRrY, bEsT BrO. tHeRe’s sOmEtHiNg wRoNg wItH My tHiNkPaN. It hUrTs lIkE A MoThErFuCkEr.

AT: Oh, uh, get well soon, i guess.

TC: GoOd lUcK FoR YoUr fIgHt mY WiCkEd mOtHeRfUcKeR!

TC: :o) HoNkHoNkHoNk

 

terminallyCapricious [TC] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT]

 

 

The buzzing in your head has returned, much more intense than before. You attempt to find more pie, but all you see are empty pie tins. Trying to ignore the buzzing (and failing), you continue wandering around the cold and dark halls of the asteroid, looking for them. You periodically check your grubtop, hoping to see someone online, but it seems only Equius is right now. And you don’t want to see that pompous motherfucker again.

 

You see a small air vent. Maybe you could squeeze through and check all the rooms it connects to. It certainly would be more effective than wandering aimlessly around these lonely passages. Climbing into the air vent, you spend the next two minutes shuffling around in the dark. 

 

You are starting to regret this decision. In this darkness, you can’t see where you came from, or where you’re heading. In the quiet confines of the vent, the buzzing seems much louder now. Almost to the point that you could hear… _voices_? Yes. Maybe. Soft, whispers echoing around your thinkpan. Too soft to understand, but loud enough to almost become a source of comfort. Like there was someone with you in that dark vent. 

 

Bolstered by the thought, you proceed through the vent. Eventually, you see light at the end of the vent. Emerging, you see another nondescript grey room. Well, it _used_ to be nondescript. Someone, probably the catsis, had drawn colourful images all over the room, turning the whole room into her own shipping wall. Your attention was captured by the colourful chalk strewn all over the floor. You pick them up. _They might come in handy later,_ said the voices.

 

You silently agree. You never know when you might want to do some decoration.

 

Climbing back into the vent and darkness, you find yourself alone with your thoughts yet again. Alone with your thoughts… _and theirs_.

Now, you are conscious of hearing their voices, now distinctly echoing in your head.

 

_Who are you?_

 

_What are you meant to be?_

 

_What are you now?_

 

You try your best to answer the questions. You are Gamzee Makara. You are meant to be… You come up blank. You are a highblood. Right?

 

_Wrong._

 

_You are a failure._

 

_You are meant to be a subjugglator._

 

_You are disgusting example of what your kind should be like._

 

You start to get slightly annoyed by the voices. You enjoy what you are. A loyal, helpful friend who doesn’t care about the caste system. 

 

The voices remain silent. Instead of speaking they show you how it was meant to be.

 

You are GAMZEE MAKARA, and you are feared. You have taken the place of the GRAND HIGH SUBJUGGLATOR, second in authority to Condesce herself. You rule over the trolls on land Alternia with an iron fist. Blasphemy of any kind is punishable by culling. You fear nothing. You are a highblood, and you act like it. Any opposition to your rule lasts approximately half a week before the instigators are tortured in public. Your throne rooms drips withdozens of different shades of blood. This is what you are meant to be.

 

_Do you see now?_

 

_We can help you rise to greatness._

 

_We can help you achieve respect among your “friends”._

 

_We can help you become a true highblood._

 

You see it now. What you should become. The voices turn sympathetic.

 

_We know what you’ve been through._

 

_Your friends think of you as a joke, nothing more._

 

_Rise, subjugglator._

 

_RISE._


End file.
